


Burden to Bear

by Anonymous



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Adam Being Creepy, Forced Pregnancy, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implanted Womb, Medical Experimentation, Medical Trauma, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After years of enduring Locked-In Syndrome, Adam exacts his revenge on Henry."Can you think of the perfect revenge on a man who is so against taking lives? Forcing him to give birth.”





	1. Revenge Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).



> Many thanks to Zeus for not only being a wonderful mod, but for betaing this for me. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Falling asleep curled around Jo, sated and content, I hadn't a care in the world. Awakened by the distinct feeling of a gun’s barrel being pressed into my ribcage, that peace was wrenched from me.

Not wanting to face my attacker in the dark, I casted about for the bedside lamp to no avail.

“Hello, Henry. I’d ask if this were a good time, but it seems you’ve already had one.” 

That voice, Adam’s voice, was a greater shock to my system than death at the height of New York winter. Fully awake now, I sat bolt upright and swiveled to find Jo still undisturbed and slumbering. She inched toward the warm patch of bed I’d left behind.

“She's safe, Henry. Perfectly unharmed. Your son too,” he added, already answering my next question before I could form the words. “They’ll both stay that way, if you do everything I ask.”

Shock soon gave way to irritation. “How can I trust that you’ll keep your word?”

“You can't,” admitted Adam with a lopsided grin. “But I guarantee I'll take them both from you if you kick up too much of a fuss.”

What was his angle? The answer was not readily apparent. If Adam had wanted to simply kill my loved ones, he could've snuffed them both out in their sleep. If he’d wanted to expose my secret, he would have shot me by now. Not that that was still a threat where Jo was concerned.

I must have been musing too long, for Adam broke into my thoughts with a theatrical sigh. “Tick tock, Henry. We may have forever, but I'm not spending it waiting for you to make up your mind.”

“One condition, I won't kill anyone. Jo and Abraham wouldn't trade anyone’s life for their own.” Even with their lives at risk, there were lines I couldn't cross. Mostly because they would never forgive such a sacrifice.

“You won't have to. You have _my word_ , for whatever that's worth.”

I cast one last reluctant glance in Jo’s direction, attempting to commit her beautiful features and the spirit behind them into memory. I was keenly aware that Adam’s vengeance could separate us. I threw back my covers and stood, batting away the pistol in Adam’s grip as though it were an annoying fly. I attempted to locate my discarded trousers, Jo and I had undressed in a bit of a hurry earlier that evening.

Adam shook his head. “You don't need clothes for what we're doing.”

“You plan to kill me then,” I commented.

“Not tonight. At least, I hope not.” Adam punctuated the statement with a chuckle before tossing the gun off into a shadowed corner of the bedroom. The gun landed in the waiting hands of another man, one I had managed to overlook. I had been so focused on Adam, I hadn't considered there could be a secondary threat. Cursing myself for what might prove to be fatal inattention, I advanced toward Adam.

“You said they wouldn't come to harm!” I hissed, my voice only restrained by fear that I would wake Jo and provoke Adam’s compatriot into shooting.

“Just insurance. Come along, Henry.” Adam tutted as though addressing a dim child.

If there were better ways out of this predicament I could not see them, and as loathe as I was to leave Jo at gunpoint, I followed Adam out into the night.

It was a fairly warm spring evening. Even with a stiff breeze there was no chance of dying of exposure and forcing Adam to seek alternate entertainment—the source of which I’d rather not contemplate. I kept hoping for someone to detain me for indecency, reasoning Adam couldn’t blame me for that kind of coincidence. But the streets were practically empty, and I had no such luck. All too soon, Adam announced we were here.

Here, from the outside, was a boarded up door attached to an abandoned building. Adam made a sweeping gesture toward the door. “Task number one: break it down.”

I rolled my eyes, but with a couple of swift kicks and a shoulder block, the rotted wood gave way enough for me to step through. Some of the splintered fragments bit into my skin, but I ignored it in favour of scanning the room. 

The walls and floor of the interior also showed age but were swept to a clean polish. What really stood out was the equipment and tools. A complete surgical setup with enough working machines and vitals’ monitors to make any field hospital jealous.

My first thought, that Adam had brought me to treat someone in private, was absurdly hopeful. My eyes darted among the machines for at least three passes looking for any sign of my prospective patient, before they came to rest at a bed. A very empty bed with thick leather strap restraints.

Centuries old memories took residence at the forefront of my mind. Clearly, no matter what other purpose the room was designed to serve, it was meant to unsettle me. I hated that it worked, and yet I couldn't pull my eyes away.

Adam grabbed me by the arm and I pivoted toward him. I was distracted well enough that I didn't notice the telltale prick of the needle among the various splinters in my shoulder until it was too late.

I twisted out of his grip, a chorus of “no, and not again” springing from my lips unbidden even as the unnatural warmth seized my muscles. 

“It’s just a sedative, Henry. Relax.” A peal of laughter followed the order. “Not that you have much of a choice.” More of Adam’s twisted mirth followed me out into the night as I bolted from the makeshift operating theatre.

Whatever tincture Adam had concocted was fast acting, and clearly being sped along by the efficient delivery system of my racing heart. The world tipped at odd angles, slowing me down further, but Adam didn't bother to chase me.

Instead, he called out from behind me, “One more step and your girlfriend dies. We made an agreement.”

I turned and stumbled, and the world began to go black at the edges.

I was caught before I hit the ground and there was nothing left in me to fight as he all but carried me back inside.

Adam’s words were the last I heard as everything else faded away. “Good night, Henry. Sleep well.”


	2. The Pact is Made

Returning to consciousness felt much like breaking the surface of the water, only now my head, not my body, swam. The ceiling above me shifted like the image in a kaleidoscope with every tip of my head. My lips cracked and my palate was so dry it felt like the grooves of my mouth had been freshly carved. A cup appeared against my chin, full of crushed ice. I licked a few of the blessed fragments into my mouth.

As the ice melted on my tongue, my sluggish mind began to click into gear, but my thoughts floated away like fragments of an ill-remembered dream. Frustrated with the fog gripping my mind, I attempted to sit up, only to find my arms would not cooperate with my demands. Struggling harder I bucked my hips. The movement sent a searing pain shooting through my abdomen and groin.

What the hell had Adam done?

“Careful, Henry, I'm out of anesthetic. If you pop a stitch, I'll be forced to repair it while you're conscious this time.”

I stopped struggling, all too aware of the futility of it. A fresh wave of panic arose when I tried to demand to know what had been done to me, only for my ears to be greeted by a weak cough.

Adam offered more ice but I clamped my lips shut.

“Suit yourself,” Adam muttered in the tone of an irritated parent. “How will I even know if you want to be let up, if you can't ask? I know you're into this kind of thing.”

Even if I were willing to wait out a painful death by dehydration and torture, it would not be near expedient enough to save Abraham and Jo, assuming Adam had found me compliant enough to keep his promise. My already queasy stomach churned.

Once again, Adam answered the unspoken question. “My man is long gone. Soon, if they haven't already, your precious little family will be waking up to discover you gone and heading for the river.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, but it offered little while I was injured and still apart from them.

Adam took up pacing at the foot of the bed, ignoring my discomfort. “I’ve endured years of Locked-In Syndrome with nothing to do except plan the perfect revenge. Through all those weeks and months, I was plotting and waiting for this moment." He stopped abruptly and leaned over me. "I will not be denied! Do you understand?”

I nodded as best I could, and this time when the ice was offered, I partook. The relief it offered was still sweet, despite its poisoned source.

“Good boy,” cooed Adam, carding his free hand through my hair.

I wished I could snap off every intruding finger, one at a time.

“Now tell me, Henry. Can you think of the perfect revenge on a man who is so against taking lives?”

I shook my head, too tired to even be annoyed by the guessing games.

“Forcing him to give birth.”

He wanted a few moments, drew in a large breath and then with all the flourish of that Monty Hall fellow Abraham had enjoyed as a young boy, Adam announced, “Congratulations! Henry Morgan, you're pregnant.”

I didn't have time to react before the darkness pulled me under its hold again.

* * *

 

Fainting, of course, only gave Adam the chance to deliver the news an additional time. He looked as pleased as I had ever known him, and that glee leant some credence to what should have otherwise been absurd.

“Impossible.” I answered, all the same. My voice came out raspy and weak, but audible, and I was grateful not to be alone with my thoughts.

“Says the man born in 1779. Hasn’t that broadened your definition of possible yet?”

He had a point, but still immortality felt different. “How can I be...?”

Adam, out of either charity or pride, deigned to explain. “Pregnant. There's a blastocyst embedded in your uterine wall. Oh, you have a uterus now. Turns out, our immortality overrides the normal process of human organ rejection, which makes this whole experiment possible.”

At that I glanced down, half expecting to see some concrete evidence of what Adam was saying. Nothing seemed amiss, save some heavy bandages around my genitals.

Following my gaze to where it rested, Adam said, “I took the liberty of cutting you a birth canal while I was down there. I assumed you would have trouble doing so on your own.”

“How very thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome." Another predator smile graced Adam's lips. "Now then, here's what I want from you. You're to carry this baby to term, deliver it, and document the experience in a journal. Some time after the birth, we’ll meet, you’ll deliver the journal, and I'll leave you alone for a while.”

“And the...the child?” I still wasn't sure what to believe, but there was nothing to be gained by not taking Adam seriously. Our previous encounters had taught me as much. Moreover, whatever had transpired here, I would not be getting home without Adam’s belief I was cooperating.

Adam shrugged. “Adopt it out, drown it in a sack like an unwanted kitten, keep it. That matters little to me.”

“Then why go to all this trouble?” I demanded at last.

“I’ve told you before, Henry. It’s so hard to find something new.”

The words were chilling enough that I shuddered involuntarily, yet I pressed on. “What if I were to refuse, or leave here and be struck by a bus? What binds me to this idle curiosity of yours?”

“If you were to ruin the experiment, I’d just have to track you down and try again. Revenge can wait a very long time.”

I let my weary eyes slide shut, and considered how long Adam had spent on me, even before I’d done anything more than exist. It was entirely reasonable to assume he would never let this go.

When I opened my eyes again, he loomed in my field of vision. “Do we have a deal?”

“What choice do I have?”

“None. Isn’t that excellent?”


	3. Old Habits

Adam waited to release me until late in the next evening, after extracting several more promises that I would follow his instructions, and presumably to prevent death by infection in those early hours. Whatever his motives, I was too eager to return home to consider anything except getting dressed and heading that way.

I arrived at the shop and found it dark and shuttered. I wanted to turn and head for the spot where Abe normally sat at the riverbank, and reassure them I was well, but my overworked limbs quivered with the effort of getting just this far, and my core felt like it had been set aflame.

So I abandoned the idea in favour of trudging inside. I used the last of my energy to put some leftover soup on the stove to warm and to get tea brewing. It felt like an age since I’d last eaten.

I had just settled down with my strained broth, raising the bowl to my lips with shaking hands when Abe and Jo made their way through the front door.

“We’ll find him,” Abraham said with a confidence that warmed me better than the broth.

Jo’s replies were muffled and indistinct.

“He’s been through worse,” insisted Abe against whatever claim she was making.

“Rarely,” I answered, followed by a weak cough, one or both of which sent them rushing into the room. I tried standing to greet them and found my knees buckling against a fresh wave of pain.

“Oh my god,” Jo whispered.

At the same time Abraham demanded, “Pops, what happened?”

Jo looked ready to burst into new tears, Abe looked furious, and I was too tired for either one.

“Please, just get me into bed. I'll explain everything in the morning.”

* * *

I wanted to believe I had every intention of being candid about my predicament to both Jo and Abe. I woke late to find both of them already up and sharing breakfast at the table. I shuffled into the kitchen trying to mask the pain of movement behind a smile, but from the dual expressions of horror focused on me, I wasn't very convincing.

Jo helped me down into my chair. Abe moved to the stove. “Want any breakfast? It’s just scrambled eggs and toast this morning,” he said, breaking the uneasy silence.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“Coffee?”

I shook my head. “Juice, if we have any.”

“Coming right up,” he replied, as Jo looked back and forth between us.

I waited until I had the plate in front of me, stirring my food to avoid looking at them as I said, “Adam has gotten free of Locked-In Syndrome. I’m not sure how but he managed to break in. He was here, in our home, threatening to kill the pair of you.” I was gripping my fork so tightly, the metal bent slightly in my fingers. I speared a piece of egg, and fell silent.

“So you went with him?” Jo filled in for me. “Voluntarily.”

“He had you held at gunpoint. Had I tried to put up any kind of a fight, he would have either shot you, or shot me, and then had me collected from the river.”

“I still don’t like you throwing yourself to the lions,” Abe said.

“What would you have me do?” I asked, sharper than I meant to. I looked up at Abe, the tears forming in my eyes blurring the features I knew so well. “Nothing he did to me, nothing he could do to me, would be worse than losing either one of you. I'm still your father, and this is the woman I love and I will protect you, no matter the price.”

“What did it cost you this time?” Jo asked at a whisper. She glanced down at my trousers, where blood had seeped through the bandages. “Oh god, he...”

Even without finishing the sentence, I knew what Jo was driving at. I wanted to disabuse her of the notion. But the truth, if I believed it, was both worse and better than the concept in her imagination.

The trouble was I wasn’t sure I could believe the ‘truth’. I only had Adam’s word to go on and it wasn't as though he wouldn't have bluffed to unsettle me or make me look insane. The silence stretched on, which Jo undoubtedly took as confirmation.

“After I left with him, I was sedated. I'm not...entirely certain what happened after that.”

Jo adopted her thoughtful expression, the one she used for puzzling out a difficult case or another of my lies. I waited, half expecting further questions about when I’d woken up or how’d I gotten home. None came.

“We won’t push you, Pops,” Abraham said, as though he and Jo had come to some sort of telepathetic agreement.

“When you’re ready to talk about it, we’ll be here,” Jo added.

I gave them an uneasy smile. “You’ll be the first to know.”

* * *

 

Unfortunately she wasn’t and neither was Abraham. Instead, Lucas was once again the first to find out my secret. Dealing with the physical wound Adam had left behind was a challenge, both physically for the location and breadth of the injury, but also meant emotionally confronting the mutilation. While I normally held nothing but a dull fascination for the ways a human body could be damaged or destroyed, looking at a change on the body that had been mine for two centuries was far more unnerving. As a result I worked slowly. Slowly enough that, if I attempted to change the bandages at home, I would risk discovery. I had selected the morgue as alternative. It provided a more sterile environment than anywhere else I could imagine sequestering myself and was supposed to offer a level of privacy that ensured I wasn't walked in on.

On the evening of discovery, I had not even begun the task when Lucas made his appearance, jolted, and immediately retreated to the room adjacent.

“Lucas, what brings you to the morgue at this late hour?” I asked, attempting to sound casual.

Lucas walked back in as I buckled my trousers. “I was collecting a graphic novel from my locker.” He held up the comic book in question. “Far more interested in what you were doing.”

As came naturally, I lied. “I'm testing a theory about patterns of injury recovery.” 

“For which case?” asked Lucas.

Lucas knew the morgue’s population well enough to render a lie impossible. "It’s not for a case." 

“Conducting passion projects in the middle of the night at the morgue, Jo was right to worry.”

“She came to you?” I shook my head. 

“Who else was she gonna ask?” Lucas griped, hopping up to sit on an exam table. “You know, Henry, I got why you lied about being 200 and whatever years old, but I kinda thought the lies would stop now that I’m in the inner circle.”

I scrubbed a hand down my face. “What else did Jo say?”

“That Adam was out again; at least she thought to warn me.” His tone softened. “And that you’d been hurt.”

“I’m sorry, Lucas.”

“How bad is it that it's worth keeping Jo in the dark?” 

“See for yourself.” I dropped my trousers and undid the last roll of bandage, giving Lucas the idea. 

"Shit." Lucas said, which honestly summed it up.

"I could use help to properly change the dressing," I grudgingly admitted, “if you don't mind being sworn to secrecy about something else.”

"Whatever you need, Doc." Lucas fetched fresh supplies and I turned away from the mirror I'd been using, a grateful—if slightly green—smile on my face.

I stood in silence, pointedly taking in the ceiling as Lucas dabbed at the gaping wound. Hissing in pain as he probed and cleaned was all that I was capable of, and I could think of nothing to say anyway. 

Lucas, on the other hand, had no such qualms. "Is this one of those ask no questions scenarios? Because it looks like he jammed your man meat into a weedwhacker.”

I sighed and whether tired of recent conjectures into my sexual proclivities or just plain tired, decided to opt for the truth. "My psychopathic stalker decided I needed to give pregnancy a try. Or at least that's what he claimed, I can't exactly confirm with an ultrasound." 

"We'd just need to break into a hospital with one and bribe a shady tech," Lucas suggested, breezing past the headline of the matter, as he knelt to check his work.

"Entirely too risky. Besides, the doubt will resolve itself, eventually.”

“Look, Henry,” he started and the dropping back to a first name basis let me know he was serious, “you may be an against-your-will pregnant dude, but you still deserve pre-natal care.”

He had a point.

“I'll get a machine and someone here who won't ask any questions, you know you can trust me by now.”

And I did, which is how I became the owner of concrete proof. 

A single sonogram that Jo would confront me with less than a week later.


	4. Hope

“I’ve finally figured out what you’ve been hiding,” Jo looked to be on the verge of tears, and my heart sank at the sight of her crying, even as relief flooded through me at the prospect of not carrying this charade on alone.

“Oh thank god,” I breathed.

“You wanted to be caught?” Jo choked out, her voice rising an octave, as the first few tears spelled down her cheeks. “Unbelievable.”

“I’ve tried to tell you a hundred times, I just didn't know how.” I stepped toward her, wanting to dry her tears.

“Don't touch me.”

I dropped my arms at once, letting them slap against my thighs. “I know this is a bit of an adjustment, but-”

“It’s a major breach of trust, Henry. I don't know what things were like before, but in this century, women appreciate knowing they're not the only one.”

I stared at her, bewildered. How on Earth had Jo gotten that impression? Belatedly, I realized my jaw was hanging open and shut it. “Jo, darling, what exactly do you think I'm hiding?”

Rather than answer, Jo moved away from me, and toward the bedroom, beginning to pack her things. I followed at what I hoped was a non-threatening distance, floundering for a way to set the record straight that didn't involve simply blurting I'm pregnant, like some kind of lunatic.

“You don't get to play dumb, Henry. Not this time.”

“Humor me.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and added, “if you like, consider it a last request.”

Jo sighed. “We aren't sleeping together anymore. You’re taking days off, rushing out of rooms. I knew something was up, but I didn't put it together, until I found the books, and this.” Jo held up the sonogram. It reminded me so much of the moment she’d confronted me with a different photograph that I’d nearly missed her next words. “You’re having a baby with another woman.”

“You’re only half right, I'm having a baby." 

"What?"

"Sit down and I'll explain, all of it this time.”

* * *

 

Just like with my last secret, it took the better part of the night and then some to convince her, as well as share the details of my coerced pact with Adam.

“I'm still angry,” admitted Jo, though her expression was more weary than anything. “You should have known by now, you can trust me with anything.”

“I do,” I protested. “It wasn't a matter of mistrust. You’ve already accepted so much. This wasn't your burden to bear too.”

“Maybe not, but I want to help. I’ve always wanted to help. That's what love means to me.” She grabbed my hand, lacing her fingers with mine. I felt buoyed for the first time since the moment Adam forced me from my bed.

“I love you too. I haven't even told Abraham,” I informed her, shifting so I could draw Jo into my lap. “Lucas knows but only because he caught me changing the bandages. He’s offered to help with the birth.”

“What do you plan to do?” Jo asked.

“I'll probably take him up on it, easier than attempting labour on my own.”

“No, that's not what I meant. Assuming you're successful, what happens to the baby?”

“I haven't decided. Perhaps leave it at the fire station.”

“Abandoning a baby doesn't sound like the father I’ve come to know,” she murmured.

“It doesn’t feel right,” I confessed, setting a hand on the slight swoop of my middle. “If this child were ours, I’d have no question. Nothing about this is a product of love.”

Jo glanced toward the kitchen and back. Her eyes were warm and soft. “You came to love another child who was the product of tragedy, thrust into your life unexpectedly. Are you so sure you couldn’t do that again?”

“I don't know.”

Jo set her hand over mine, tracing a small affectionate circle along my belly. “I don't want to pressure you. I promise I will support any decision you make.”

“But?” I pressed, sensing there was more to the sentence.

“But, these last few months, learning about your life with Abigail, raising Abe together. I want a family with you too. Not that I don't love Abe and hope he lives to be a hundred and twenty, but it's hard to feel like a mother to a man old enough to be my grandfather.”

“I heard that, young lady,” called Abe coming to join us. Catching Jo’s puffy red eyes, his teasing mood faded. “Serious family meeting going on in here, I see. Who wants to fill me in?”

Jo looked at me, silent and clearly agonizing, and decided to save me the effort. “I don't really understand it, but somehow Adam was able to get Henry pregnant, and we’re trying to decide what to do with the baby.”

Abe took this in stride. “Is there some reason you're going through with this?”

“Adam said he would only try again. It seemed better to agree than to risk being separated for the duration of the gestation, that was his original plan.” I rubbed along the ridge above my eyebrows.“Assume for a moment, I did want to keep this child. How will we justify a baby out of nowhere?”

“We could pretend, tell everyone I’m pregnant," suggested Jo. "We’d get all the celebration, and when the time gets closer we can go away for a while to avoid the questions.”

“And when we don't come back with a child?”

“If you change your mind," corrected Jo gently, "we can tell everyone we lost the baby, no harm. We could even to go to Paris while we're hiding out, get lost for a while.

She smiled, knowingly, and I was sunk. "Alright. I'll think about it."

"Seems Jo has thought of everything,” commented Abe.

“You have to think quicker, loving this lug.” She pressed a kiss to my jaw. Turning her attention back to Abraham, “I didn't think to ask how would you feel about having a sibling?”

Abe laughed. “Well I’ve had Henry to myself for decades. It's about damn time I had someone to tag in around here.”


End file.
